Collateral Damage
by Bryher
Summary: He saw her cast a glance at Raelin. She was sat on an upturned wheelbarrow, watching the knights preparing to leave. She was sobbing. Oneshot.


Title; Collateral Damage

Rating; T

Summary; She cast a fearful glance at Raelin... She was sobbing.

Author's Notes; Old fic I found floating around on a bit of paper (I was having a clearout). It was only the plot and character names, so I had a shot at writing it. I have a hangover, and four hours sleep under my belt, so it isn't perfect. The song is not mine. Kate Rusby does a beautiful version on her 1997 album 'Hourglass.' So I credit it to her.

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There she was. Vanora dropped the mug she was holding and belted out of the tavern, Bors bellowing after her. Her feet pounded the floor as she ran after towards her quarry. After five children, she was surprised at how quickly she managed to catch up to the flaxen haired woman.

"Raelin!"

Vanora was horrified by the deadness of the green eyes that looked at her with an enquiring glance. Raelin was in mourning. Dark circles shadowed the skin under her eyes, cheeks sunken with lack of food and sleep. "Raelin," she repeated softly, drawing a hand up to brush away a limp golden lock of hair from the empty face.

Bedivere had died a week ago, brought back by a stricken Tristan, who had found him riddled with arrows on a popular riding trail.

There had been innocence in that day. Bedivere had wanted to go riding, and Arthur let him. There had been no Woads in the area- there hadn't been for months on end. But that day, there was. It had been suspected that Bedivere's death was a precursor to something else, to perhaps another attack on the fort. Nothing had come of it. He died because a Woad party shot him, and that was it.

So Raelin was left alone. She had been alone until Bedivere. He saw her when no one else did. Despite her beauty, Raelin was reclusive and shy, unwilling to mingle with the other villagers and fort residents. She lived in a small, badly constructed hut on the outskirts of the village that had sprung up around the fort walls. The only thing she would do willingly was sing, but even then it was only for Vanora and the knights- she would refuse point blank to sing at the tavern. She worked as a maid, earning her keep by supervising the pompous wives of the Romans who visited from time to time. When there were no ladies, she sometimes helped Vanora in the tavern, but the fiery redhead had to stick up for the skinny, shy Raelin. She wouldn't stick up for herself. Then Bedivere had gone to her.

Later, in a snatched and rare conversation, Raelin told Vanora that he simply walked up to her as she was shoring up holes in her hut walls and picked up a board, slotting it in next to hers. Not a word was exchanged, but they worked all afternoon until the hut was sound. That had been the start.

It had been five years since that day, and he was gone.

Taking Raelin's arm gently, Vanora steered her towards the stables, taking them to the very back of the building and a large heap of straw. The light shone on Raelin's hair as she sat in a patch of sunlight. Her eyes were glazed though, and even though Vanora wrapped her arms around her in comfort, her skin was cold to the touch. "You've not been eating," she said softly, wincing as Raelin's ribs pressed against her arm. "No," was the quiet reply.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No."

"You've not been singing when I've come to the hut," Vanora tried, lifting the tone of her voice to slightly teasing.

Raelin sat up, pulling away from Vanora. She looked at her and began to sing.

"I am stretched on your grave, and I'll lie here forever,

If your hands were in mine, I'd be sure they would not sever,

My apple tree, my brightness, it's time we were together,

For I smell of the earth, and am worn by the weather,

When my family think that I'm safely in my bed

Oh from morn until night I am stretched out on your head

Calling out unto the earth with tears hot and wild,

For the loss of the love, that I loved-"

Vanora covered her mouth with a shaking hand.

"Hush, Raelin. Please."

Raelin smiled sadly. Vanora watched as she rose and left the stables, walking as though drunk, shoulders slumped.

Bors would never ask why he got such an affectionate lover that night, but as he left on patrol, Vanora tugged him down to her level. "You come back, or I'll have your guts and garters for my bootlaces."

He saw her cast a fearful glance at Raelin. She sat alone on an upturned wheelbarrow, watching the knights preparing to leave. She was sobbing.

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